A Lapse in Concentration
by I'mJustWhoIAm
Summary: Sanji is finding himself more and more attracted to his green-haired rival. What will he do when Zoro saves him from a bullet and gets hit himself? Oneshot. ZoSan. Rated for swearing and blood.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the characters or places in this story. All credit goes to Oda-sensei and his awesomeness.

A/N This is my first attempt at slash. I don't intend to write much slash, but please read and tell me what you think by reviewing!

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><p>Sanji rapidly chopped up the bell pepper, the carrots and was moving onto the onion when he suddenly stopped. Distracted. A bead of sweat was slowly dripping down Zoro's chest. Zoro's perfectly tanned, muscled, strong chest. Sanji swallowed and ripped his eyes away, cursing his wandering mind.<p>

It had started a few weeks ago. He'd suddenly started seeing how incredibly handsome and manly Zoro looked. How soft his green hair seemed, how his skin glowed and glinted in the sunlight as he did his exercices, how calm his face when meditating or at rest.

Sanji was called back to reality by the sudden sharp, warm pain in his hand. Damn. The blood dripped from the small but deep split in his skin. He must have cut it because he wasn't paying attention while preparing dinner. Because he'd been thinking about Zoro. He cursed. He glanced around the kitchen, trying to remember if there were any bandages in there. He didn't want anyone to know he, the master chef Sanji, lover of women, had cut himself while making dinner. Worst of all, while thinking about Zoro.

The door slammed open. Speak of the devil, it was the marimo himself. "Sake?" he asked, not even waiting for an answer before starting to rummage through the fridge. He held his prize aloft a few seconds later and gulped the bottle down eagerly. It took him a moment to notice that the pervert cook was acting strange: for once, curlybrows was not yelling at him for invading the kitchen and serving himself alcohol. "Oi, what happened, shit cook?" he asked, sitting down at the table and nonchalantly putting his shoes on the table, which served to finally make Sanji whirl around with a snarl disfiguring his visage. "Get your legs off the table immediately, get out of my kitchen, and stop stealing wine whenever you feel like it!" he hissed. Zoro ignored his tirade and instead focused on the blonde's bleeding finger. "What happened, shit cook?" A grin spread over his face. "Cut yourself while cooking, eh?" Sanji felt his face flush deeply and he ripped his hand away violently. "Leave me alone!" he shouted. Zoro's smirk grew. "No can do." He rummaged around in his pocket before pulling out a roll of bandages. "Chopper makes me carry them around and tells me to use them after a fight, but I can't bother," he explained, grabbing Sanji's long, slender pale finger and wrapping it in the slim white gauze. Before the cook could mouth a word of complaint, he was out the door, bottle in hand.

Sanji swore. "Stupid bastard marimo," he muttered, feeling his face burning with shame. Damn. He'd gone and showed Zoro weakness. He turned around, and for lack of anything better to do resumed making dinner, insulting the green-haired swordsman under his breath. Only somehow, they no longer seemed like words of hate but sounded like endearments. Fuck the mosshead. This was all his fault.

Dinner was the usual noisy affair, save for one difference: for once, Sanji did not address the first mate and Zoro was content to follow his example. Other than that, it was the same old: every man for himself against Luffy's attack on their food, Sanji swooning over the ladies and Brook cracking corny skull jokes.

The boisterous chatter was interrupted by the sharp scrape of chair against powerful wood. Zoro stood up stiffly and, grabbing his bottle of sake, walked out silently. The others gaped, and in unison their heads turned towards Sanji who was glowering with rage. A few frozen moments later, Zoro strolled back in, grinning, announcing, "There's a Marine ship coming." Nami scowled, Robin giggled, Usopp hid, Chopper frowned unhappily but incredibly cutely, Franky's arms transformed into weapons, Brook started strumming on his guitar, Luffy's face stretched to accomodate the vast grin covering it, Sanji put out his cigarette with an annoyed "Tch" and Zoro took out his swords, sole eye glinting.

There was a surprisingly large number of ships ambushing them; eight at least, proudly sailing with their white and blue masts half-illuminted by the rising moon. Without further ado, Luffy threw himself at them, screaming, "You bastards! How dare you interrupt dinner!" Zoro followed, his swords slicing strokes that killed tens of men at a time. Sanji joined in the fray, flaming leg giving off a lethal aura. The others took out five ships, but left their three best a ship each to themselves.

Zoro looked up for a moment from his opponents to quickly register where the other Strawhats were. He grinned at the subject of Luffy's enraged screaming, shaking his head slightly at the boy's immaturity. He scanned the other ship for Sanji and noticed the blonde looking at him, lost in thought. Zoro, puzzled, wondered why he was spacing out in battle. Crap. No time for that. A Marine was pointing his gun at the dartbrow. "Sanji!" he shouted, willing his rival to snap out of it. No use. He couldn't hear him. Zoro cursed, seeing as if in slow motion the enemy pull the trigger. He couldn't think anymore. All he knew was that he needed to get Sanji away from the trajectory of the bullet. He ran and jumped as if in a dream, everything blurring togeher until he wasn't sure if he himself was real. He pushed the blonde out of the way and felt a searing pain enter his chest, shocking him back to reality. He had gotten to Sanji and pushed him away before the bullet could hit him, but… he felt cold take over, despite the warm liquid puddle surrounding him. He was only half-surprised to realize that it was his own blood, but that didn't matter as the darkness overtook him.

Sanji stared up at the corpse collapsed on top of him, shocked. Blood from the rapidly paling body dripped down on him. The incessant clash of steel halted for a moment, as if the Heavens themselves were taking a deep breath to scream out the name, "Zoro!"

All Sanji felt was numbness. Why was the marimo slowly dying on top of him? His fingers quickly found the bullet wound and he swallowed. It was lodged deep in Zoro's ribcage. Fortunately it had not punctured a lung, but still...

Sanji swore. This was all his fault. "Chopper!" he yelled desperately. As if by magic, the young reindeer materialized next to him. "Please... Save him. Please. My fault," he babbled incoherently. Chopper gently took Zoro's body off him.

Sanji was soon reminded of where they were when a sword whistled right next to his head. He dodged easily and stood up, murderous rage glinting ferociously in his eyes. "Die, you bastards," he muttered angrily. This time, there was no way he would space out as he had last time. This time, the mesmerizing view of the marimo executing his dance of death was not offered to him, and instead the image of Zoro lying in a pool of crimson liquid was seared into his brain. He growled. These Marines were all going down.

It took a matter of minutes for him to get rid of the last stragglers. Immediately he whipped around, a concerned look replacing his furious glare. "How is he?" he asked, dropping down next to Chopper and his crewmates who had joined him on the Marine ship. "Fortunately, it didn't touch any of his vital organs, so knowing him, he'll be fine in a few days," Chopper announced, a small smile lighting up his previously unhappy visage. Sanji breathed out deeply. He realized only now how tense he had been, worried that because of him the marimo might actually be irreparably wounded.

Zoro gave a quiet groan and opened his eyes. After an initial moment of confusion, he demanded, "Oi, why's everyone crowding around me?" Everyone grinned and relaxed. "Cuz we were worried about you, third-rate swordsman," Sanji growled, his relieved eyes belying his joy at seeing Zoro was fine. "Shit cook," Zoro parried. "Mosshead," Sanji returned, and their usual insults flew through the air.

A few days later, Sanji was again in the kitchen. Zoro exercised outside, disregarding Chopper's warnings about his health. A knot of guilt formed in his throat as he remembered how the swordsman has gotten his most recent scars. His heart started beating faster and he clenched a hand over it. Shit. How girlish. Even just thinking about the marimo made his heart beat faster.

For some reason, he really wanted to know why Zoro had taken the bullet for him. This irrational desire pushed him to utter something other than protests when Zoro made his twice-daily trip into the kitchen for sake. "Dunno," was the swordsman's extremely elaborate answer. Sanji gritted his teeth in anger, and as usual a burning fight broke out between the two. Zoro finally left to go do some extreme weightlifting, leaving Sanji to his thoughts.

Only around two weeks had passed since he'd first felt his heart skip a beat upon seeing the swordsman, and already he was fantasizing about him. What would his reaction be to the three fateful, scary words? What did his lips feel like? What did he think of Sanji? The cook bit his lip. Well, he knew the answer to that. But it didn't stop him from having the slimmest bit of hope that perhaps the first mate returned his feelings.

By now, Sanji had finally come to terms with the fact that he liked a man. And to top it off, it just had to be the marimo. Life sure sucked. But, much as he hated this weakness, he couldn't stop his heart from beating, just as he couldn't deny the warm glow the swordsman lit in him whenever he was nearby.

It was a few weeks after the fight. The first mate's wounds were completely healed by now. Dinner had been cleaned up, dishes washed and put away, the whole crew gone to bed. Except for two of them. The cook sat at the table, nibbling on his pen for want of a cigarette, planning out the meals for the next week. They had quite a bit of salmon, so... Salmon pasta the next day, steamed until tender salmon after that, and...

He was distracted by a movement beside him. Black boots with green highlights came to rest on the table. He glared at the owner of the shoes. "Get your feet off the table," he ordered. "Why?" Zoro shot back. "Because they're dirty and-" He was interrupted by the marimo leaning over, grabbing his head and smashing their lips together. Sanji's eyes jolted wide open in surprise. "W-what was t-that for?" Zoro chuckled. "Don't think I didn't notice you ogling me all this time. You like me, don't you?" he replied serenely. "Of course no-" His annoyed answer was cut short by Zoro's mouth against his. "Don't lie," Zoro breathed into his ear. "You enjoy this." The way the marimo said it was not a question, it was cold, hard fact. Sanji swallowed. If he was going to admit it, he may as well force the stupid damned words out quickly. "Yes. Yes, I do. But since you don't like me, I wasn't going to tell-" For the third time that night, he felt Zoro shut him up with his lips. "Idiot curlybrow. Who says I don't like you? Who the hell would throw themselves in the path of a speeding bullet for a person they don't like?" Sanji let out a muffled sound of surprise. He almost couldn't believe his ears. The marimo, liking him? Impossible. But here was the proof of it right before him, a green-haired face tinged just the slightest bit red. "I love you," he said quietly, hiding his embarrassed and flushed face in the swordsman's white shirt. Zoro's strong, calloused hands reached down and turned his face up towards him. He lightly brushed the cook's lips. "Be quiet, shit cook." Sanji smiled. The insult sounded, somehow, like an endearment. Almost as if Zoro was saying back, "I love you."


End file.
